This zine is organized into two main sections: ① After the lifting of martial law, could New Cinema also become a way for a democratic society to communicate? And how did nativist literature (鄉土文學) shape the early development of New Cinema? ② The urban love stories New Cinema portrayed — edited and viewed through how they captured our familiar everyday lives, along with the big and small moments never explicitly spoken of, yet still vividly present in our collective memory.Looking across the shift from old cinema to New Cinema, as fantasies and dramatized visions of the city and daily life gave way to something plainer, New Cinema recorded layers of joy and sorrow with a delicacy that feels almost healing. As Hu Chin-fang wrote in The Melancholy of Cities, "every city's misfortunes are different, but every city's happiness looks much the same." Perhaps that's exactly where New Cinema's beauty and charm lie.(While putting this together, I thought a lot about which angle to take. Many people say New Cinema feels too heavy and avoid watching it — maybe because of what the long takes captured: the memory of a father's generation growing up under authoritarian rule, or the loneliness of modern people after urbanization. That's why I chose these two themes to build the zine around. But I believe the memories and landscapes New Cinema recorded — and the bittersweetness within them — are worth savoring again and again, until you find the light hidden beneath the heaviness.)Flip through it, feel the warmth in your hands, then go watch a film~